To Be Happy
by cuddlefishprince
Summary: A summer in Brideshed. Memories buried in a silver box. Sebastian and a kiss.


_If the wine was a plant, the kiss was their blossoms._

"I think they know they'll end up like that.", Sebastian said, his hand resting on my shoulder.  
I couldn't help but smile a little. Yes, he definitely was special. And so was his family. The castle. Every moment in this very summer.  
"I thought about what you mentioned earlier. That you want to treasure these happy moments."  
Sebastian looked at me, with that grin of a drunk, mumbling "I must have been drunk when I told you."  
"You are drunk at this moment."  
He giggled and added: "Everyone should do so. The world would be a whole lot better drunk. Happier. And everyone would forget wbout their mistakes and no one could remember the next day."  
"And pharmacies would earn a lot of money like that!"  
"See, they would be a lot happier, too.", Sebastian joked.  
His head on my shoulder, the wine glasses in our hands. I removed my hat and threw it over to the end of the chapels stairs. The christian family of his would be disgusted, I thought by myself, drinking on the stairs of their holy chapel.  
But Sebastian didn't seem to care.

* * *

"Maybe we should tresure this moment.", I said and got up.  
The world was dizzy and spinned around me, the demons of the depths of wine bottles had taken over.  
"Come on, Charles. We need a box and a shovel. Let's dig a hole and bury this summer in here. And if we ever come back to Brideshead, maybe next summer, then we can re-gain the happiness."  
I reached out for Charles' hand and pulled him up to me. It was so sudden that he let go off the wine glass. It bursted into shards and red drops that soaked the chapels stairs.  
He stared at it for a while, dazzling in the spinning chords of the wines waltz.  
"Come on, Charles! Before it gets dark completely."  
And I pulled him along a few steps. He definitely wasn't used to drinking much.

* * *

"I never thought I would come back again...", I mumbled, not sure if anyone was listening.  
Shuffling through the hallways, the empty corridors.  
None of the doors was shut this time. I could have opened them anytime, to visit a place of memories that weren't supposed to be mine. Meomories, loss and desire that should have never been mine. Hurt I shouldn't have caused. Back then, I just wanted to live a life that wasn't meant for me to live. All I desired was this place, for all the time. Brideshead. Heaven, then Hell, then home. Brideshead. Hell for Sebastian, Heaven for me. Well, for a while.  
The empty halls, echoes of my shoes, silence before the storm. Silence before the attack.  
Brideshead, a place that was home to countless memories. Good and bad. I never got to know what happened to Sebastian since Marocco. Neither did I hear of Julia ever again.  
The rooms were empty, the chapel remained silent. No more prayers to be heard, no more candles being lit. The drawings of Jess and Mary, hung with giant cloths.  
And who knew, if this was the end of Brideshead?

I sat down on the stairs. Like back then, in Summer. Years ago. When Sebastian and I were still friends. When we didn't know what would happen to us. In Venice. In Marocco. In England.  
Back then, when everything was happy, drunk and numb for everything like worry. Back then, when we were ourselves. When Brideshead was just a place and when London seemed so far away.

* * *

"That should be deep enough.", Charles lifted his Hand to his face, wiping away the sweat. I couldn't tell if it was him or the wine, but something warm raised within my heart. Something told me I was home.  
Not that I ever considered this place as a home to me. Oxford felt more comfortable, but that moment, that single moment was like I found my 'home' with someone.  
Charles felt back, in the grass, breathing heavily.  
"You could have helped me a little.", he complained, but smiled.

* * *

"I got us a box!", he muttured, sitting down next to me.  
He was still in his red pajamas and I was in doubt if he would ever take them off that night.  
"Yes, you did.."  
I smiled. It was one of that nights in summer, one of those drunk nights, when all the problems seemed so far away. When he wasn't posh and I wasn't poor. We were both equally drunk and we shared at least this moment.  
Sebastian brushed his hands through my sweaty hair.  
"Charles, my dear, you should take a bath."  
He giggled. Then he leant over and our lips met. It was just a second and he sat back up. But so did I. Eyes met each anothers.  
"Don't worry. You can kiss me."  
I closed my eyes for a moment. This was one of those complete moments. Happy andwithout any fear or holding back.  
And I never blamed the wine for that. It was a third kiss that night, a third and honest kiss. Lips on lips, Tongues entangled and I didn't regret.

* * *

I pushed myself up from the chapels stairs and walked over to the place, we sat and kissed back then. I still didn't regret it. And I never would. I regret the moment I kissed Julia, I regret not staying with him in Marocco. I regret giving up on him, for the castle.  
I regret not listening to him, when he said, we shouldn't go there. In the very first place. I knew, he showed Brideshead to me, because I insisted. I knew he did it for me. I knew I shouldn't have met his family. He was right, all the time.  
I should have been his friend only and never went back to that place.

Kneeling down to the grass, perfectly cut like it grew in the perfect lenght. Like no drunk boys dug a hole in it by night. Everyone else would have forgotten about it. But not me. I woud never forget about the small silver box we buried in there. Back in that summer night, like we already knew this would be our last night. Drunk and happy. Burying memory. For the time, when we would be old and ugly and unhappy. Maybe today was the day to unearth it. To open it again, to be happy again.

I positioned the shovel, looking down to the perfect ground of Bridesheads gardens. My look wandered off to the castle, the raising sun that reflected in the windows.  
Then I let go of it. The shovel hit the grass, soundless. I shouldn't do that. Maybe Sebastian would come back one day. Maybe he wanted to unearth the silver box of happy memories. He would live at least a little longer than the warrior his dear Charles became. And like that I would never lose my hope. My hope in him, my hope in the vistory and my hope in the kiss.  
And maybe it would be a waste of it, too. I was still abe to remember every single detail of that night in summer. Sebastian needed it more than me. Any who knew - maybe one day we could visit Brideshead once again. When we were old and ugly and unhappy. Then we could lift the silver box and remember. And be happy again.

* * *

_Maybe all we ever wanted was being happy. If it was possible. Maybe it still was._

_We could taste the blossoms of a wine-kiss again. Or maybe three, if it was possible._


End file.
